


Never Second Best

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's getting better all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Second Best

Arthur muttered something. Eames went still.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I must have heard that incorrectly. I could have sworn you said 'I hate making love,' but that can't possibly be correct."

Arthur flushed. "I mean I hate the words." He shook his head, frowning, gesturing with his near-empty beer bottle. There was some '80s song playing over the PA in the hotel bar, something Eames hadn't noticed until now, but of course Arthur paid attention to every detail, especially the annoying ones, where Eames found particular things more interesting to concentrate on. Tonight, Arthur was such a thing, once again.

"Ah, so the action itself isn't being disparaged." Eames took a sip of his gin and tonic, watching Arthur curiously as his long fingers began to peel the label from the bottle.

Arthur shook his head, and shrugged. "The phrase is just so cheesy. Nobody says that in real life. That's not even what it used to mean. It used to mean wooing, just trying to get somebody in the sack. It was a euphemism."

"And you don't like euphemisms."

"No, I don't," Arthur said, slightly belligerent; this was only his first beer, but he tended to get less reserved as he drank more. "I want people to say what they mean," he added, vaguely challenging. Eames had a hunch Arthur was broadcasting signals he wasn't fully aware he was broadcasting.

Eames filed that away for the time being, and tried to defuse things. "It's just a nicety, Arthur," he said lightly. "Rather more polite than saying 'passionately fucking,' for example."

Arthur scoffed, intent on his bottle as he peeled the label off completely.

"Do you really hate those words?" Eames couldn't let that go just yet.

"That's what I said."

"People do use those words in real life, just perhaps not when describing sex with _you_ ," and all right, perhaps Eames was not actually interested in defusing things when Arthur was testy. He grinned when Arthur scowled at him.

"Whether they use them or not doesn't matter. It's a stupid phrase and it's not literal. You aren't 'making love.' It's an impossibility."

"Oh, Arthur," Eames said pityingly, "clearly you haven't gone about it correctly."

"I've been in love with people I've had sex with," Arthur defended, haughty. (Eames allowed himself to briefly ponder, not for the first time, Arthur having sex.) "That still doesn't make it a good phrase."

"Well, has anyone made love to you in the archaic sense? Wooed you? Talked pretty to get you into the sack, as you put it?"

"Not that it's your business, but no, not really. People are a lot more direct with me."

Eames didn't doubt that, but it was a shame. "Oh, but that takes the mystery out of it, love. The charm."

Arthur scoffed again, loudly. "The bullshit, you mean."

"There's an art to it!" Eames was beginning to feel personally disparaged.

"You would know." The nerve of Arthur, really.

"I _would_ know, I'm an expert at seduction." Eames couldn’t help winking.

"Yeah, right." Arthur's ears were slightly flushed; it might have been the drink, but Eames rarely saw Arthur blushing and liked to think he got that way during sex. _Bloody tease_ , he thought.

"I know you can't doubt that, Arthur. No need to suddenly start being coy or talking like a teenager." _Even if you do look like one sometimes._

"Shut up, Eames." _Or sound like one._

"Oh, charming. You want me to be direct with you, do you?"

Arthur nodded, still sulky. Eames wondered how on Earth they'd ended up arguing about this, but then, over the years the tension between them had expressed itself in strange ways, usually in weapon-related pranks with thinly veiled psychological symbolism.

"All right, then." Eames focused on the far wall as he talked, aware of Arthur sitting still and listening. "If I set out to woo you, I would succeed in seducing you, we would waste no time in commencing the passionate fucking, and you would in fact recognize and understand that we had indeed ‘made love’ and you wouldn't care how 'cheesy' the phrase is; to the contrary you'd get weak-kneed just hearing me say it."

He looked back at Arthur, who blinked at him, cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly.

Arthur pointed his beer bottle at Eames. "Now," he said, " _now_ you're speaking my language."

Eames seized the opportunity, and stood up abruptly. "Shall we?" He hastily pulled some bills from his pocket, fingers fumbling as he dropped them on the table.

Arthur slammed his bottle down and stood as well. "Absolutely. Woo me, Mr. Eames. Woo me into the mattress."

**Author's Note:**

> This sprung up out of nowhere this afternoon because I started imagining this discussion on my way home from the grocery store. Thanks to Liz and Amy for reading this over. Title is from Modern English's "I Melt With You."


End file.
